Don't Mind My Cries, Capitol:The 138th Games
by EmeraldElegance
Summary: 24 tribute hopefuls who are in for the slightest surprise due to a twist that will make all wary. Who will survive pass this life or death obstacle? Who will recieve the title 'victor? SYOT, closed
1. Introduction

Staring out into the immense crowd, President Basil gathered her courage and headed up to the podium with a heavy heart. In her mind she thought, _my first year hosting the Hunger Games and it's not even a special event like the quarter quell. _Racking her mind to find the simplest of twists the get the audience going, it finally came to her. The games, the quells, the viewers. The 138th Hunger Games would not be ordinary. Not on her watch.

Hearing the conversations beneath her, she raised her palms in an act of complete silence. With the crowd obeying, she smirked. The Capitol would surely be lost without her.

With an 'ahem' sounded, she began mindlessly talking. "As you know, the Games are starting up soon and I am more then proud to be able to take my chances and actually run it. But why should someone else make this season any different from any others? Oh, I'll tell you why," President Basil paused dramatically, "because this year I would like to announce a new twist." The peacekeepers looked baffled. If there were twice as many tributes again, they would not be very happy. More work is more patience, something nearly no one had anymore.

"As a reminder that even the mind can not take control over our government, the tributes will be recieving hallucinations throughout the games, which their consciouses will represent," Basil sternly said, then broke through with a sinister laugh, "Be careful what you think of, kids, because all of Panem will be watching you." After a long period of time, the audience exploded in triumphant cheers.

They were more then impressed.

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Hey guys! I have a lot to explain. First of all, my old pen name was "Read Rite Relax" but as you know now I changed it. Also, I used to have a SYOT but it got deleted. Does anyone know if Critics United had something to do with this...? Because if it did, tell them that I guess I'm just not perfect enough of a writer for them. Just saying! And I apologize for the new syot. As in turns out I didn't save any of the tribute forms that were written in reviews, and the only info I had was a few chapters on the Doc Manager, but overtime they get deleted. With that being said, I am soooooo sorry! But hey, we got to get this show on the road! Thanks for listening to my little ramble there(:

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**Rules:**

You are allowed to submit only two tributes, but preferably not siblings that just both happen to be in the games together

I prefer if you don't use recycled tributes

If there is not enough description or if the submitter is anonymous, the tribute will not be accepted (oh and the amount of description and reviews from you depend on the fate of your tribute! O: )

If you were a part of my old SYOT then you can submit that character again, but you will still have to write out the form for them

PM your tributes only! Tributes sent in reviews will not be accepted

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**Form:**

*= optional

Name:

Age:

Gender:

District:

Personality:

Looks:

Reaped or Volunteered:

Reaction to being reaped/Reason for volunteering:

Family:

Friends:

Biography*:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Fears:

Favourite Weapon*:

Interview Angle

Training Stratedgy:

Games Stratedgy:

Do they kill:

Prefered Death*:

Chariot Outfit*:

Interview Outfit*:

District Token*:

Alliances/Romances (and with who):


	2. Final Tribute List

**Tribute List**

**District One**

Male: Luxe Cressa

Female: Ashanti Lukas

**District Two**

Male: Hunter Ceele

Female: Cress Frost

**District Three**

Male: Lance Bloomer

Female: Bellonya Mai

**District Four **

Male: Scott "Loki" Bramble Harlequin

Female: Abigail "Abby" Darkwell

**District Five**

Male: Patrick MacDougall

Female: Ariana Santos

**District Six**

Male: Milo Anthony Ferrell

Female: Sonnet Reynolds

**District Seven**

Male: Callan Jacob Lockewood

Female: Felisha "Ferny" Hest

**District Eight**

Male: Edward "Ed" Loughton

Female: Sophie LaFrate

**District Nine**

Male: Mandarin LaRock

Female: Bryla Cane

**District Ten**

Male: Mack Artus

Female: Chrysanthemum "Crissy" Arthrus

**District Eleven**

Male: Nightlock Crane

Female: Zaria Paska

**District Twelve**

Male: Alexander "Xander" Darlon

Female: Maisie Dox

* * *

All the tributes are in! Thanks for filling out the form and submitting a tribute, I can't wait to start this. The first chapter will be in in two weeks because I am going on vacation very soon. After there will be a chapter! Also, there will be no sponser points and things like that. It just gets confusing and I don't want to put all of you through that.

I can't wait to get this started!


	3. Reapings

**Reapings**

* * *

**District 9- Mandarin LaRock**

* * *

The warmth of my home gave way to a comfortable sensation. No reaping to worry about, not a care in the world. All I needed was some sort of substitution for paper, and then I would be content as I possibly could be for my second reaping.

Crawling up and out of my sturdy bed took no effort whatsoever. After placing my small feet on the creaky wood floors, I dashed past the hallway and into our both tiny and cozy kitchen, lured by the scent of food. "Hey Mandarin," my mother sighed, the stress in her voice easy to hear. "I just finished making some jam. I'm guessing you want some spreaded on toast?" She asked with a twinge of a smile. I briskly replied with a 'yes'.

To my luck, there was paper, lying suspicously vulnerable on the small wooden table where I sat. I guess it was up for grabs, because if my mom didn't want me having it, she would have atleast put it where I wouldn't see it. My petite fingers graze the patchy and uneven edges. It's rough texture throws me off at first, but I quickly realize that it was just made out of grain. What great quality we have here in District Nine.

Taking the bit of paper, I fly back to my bedroom and get out a sharp pencil and begin to sketch. Sketching the single bird that swiftly flapped its wings past my window this morning, as well as every other morning, that peacefully sings with the most delicate of notes being sung. Mockingjays, they are called.

"Mandarin!" My mother called with a loud voice. "Coming!" I answered, taking my finished portrait to the kitchen with me. As soon as I saw her perched over the dirt-caked stove, I held up what I had drawn. "Mom, look!" I said, anticipation of seeing her reaction making me sport a giddy smile.

Mom spun around, her chocolate brown eyes studying my art. What little grin she had had in her earlier disappeared. She rubbed her fore-head thoughtfully, a frown littering her face. "Mandarin..." she paused, " I was supposed to bring that paper to work! My boss will kill me if he ever sees that." Snatching the paper in her hands, mom says, "Never draw those things ever again!" It was unfair. She had no good excuse to just yell at me for something I didn't know was so impossibly tragic. "Well then give me a good reason why I can't!" I shouted, my wavy brown hair falling in front of my serious eyes.

Knowing she was beat, she replied, her tone of voice a little softer, with saying, "You'll understand when you're older," Then, she handed the sketch back to me. "Please. Just hide it."

* * *

**District Eight- Sophia LaFrate**

* * *

I don't pause while I scarf down what little breakfast my plate had to offer. When my appetite is filled, I push the food away with a purposly strong hand. By the sounds of it, the fork hits the ground first, to my left, the plate closely behind it. The inital sounds of crashing is over when I tell myself, _it's your cue. _"Peter!" I holler, knowing that he'll hear me. The sound of heavy feet smashing along the stiff flooring tells me that Peter is drawing near.

"What is it?" He asks, which makes me wonder if he is looking all around the kitchen to indentify the problem.

"I dropped my fork. And plate. And whatever food was left on it."

"Do you want me to clean it up?

"If that's alright. I just don't want to step on anything," I say, indicating that I want help. As soon as I hear the muffled noise of metal against plastic, I dart out the back door and sprint straight into the barn that lies shortly ahead.

And though it seems pointless to make an escape just to go to a barn, it was important to me. To be in the farm, which was a place that was I shouldn't be in, according to my brothers Peter and Nathan, because it would involve working. Which I could handle quite easily. But my brothers want me to play everything safe because of my eyesight. Or should I say _lack _of eyesight.

A hazy memory is broughten up in my mind, the scene frightening. A five year old with curly cinnamon locks and bright hazel eyes leaps around in a grassy area, crowded with trees. Little did the five year old know that, hidden in the forecasting shadows of thick branches, was a large, vibrating, humming nest that was buzzing with life. Hearing the soft sounds, the young girl had attempted at climbing the tree and had come awfully close to the nest that had large tracker jacker mutts huddled inside of it.

The idea that another species had called such a place home fascinated her. Bewildered, her fingers gently poked it. As the two surfaces collided, she instantly realized that it was a mistake to do that. Why did she do that? Why would she do that! The tiniest of the humming noises heard grew harder and harder on the ears as some flew out of their nest in alert. It was an infestation. And for the girl, it was a stinger to a fatal area in her head.

Withering, my hand flies to my forehead in alarm. The panicky feeling inside detoriorates, but keeping me the slightest bit calm is the familiar sound of animals eating, and the whistling of the faint wind outdoors. I have to remind myself that was nine years ago. And that there were more tradgedies before that. The hunger games, my mother's death during my own birth. Was that my fault too, along with my poor eyesight? Was everything my fault?

Before I completly burden myself with depressing facts, the squeaky doors of the barn open. My father's voice rings loud in the air.

"I hope you can get ready in five minutes, because the reapings are to start very soon. And we need to get going."

* * *

**District 1- Ashanti Lukas**

* * *

Satiny red bursts of liquid create a small puddle as the sword plunges through the skin of the dummy a few feet ahead of me. I encounter the next dummy and strike. _Head held high, back slanted slightly, steady your grip and lunge. _Those are the words I have been hearing since I was first enrolled in training, starting at the ripe age of twelve. The satisfaction overcomes me as the fake 'blood' seeps out of the dummy.

I immediatley jump when I feel a small pat on my right shoulder. I scowl and spin around to find a laughing trainer. "Don't mean to startle you, or anything, just if you are going to the reaping you should know that they will start gathering people in three minutes." That is the exact reason why I am thankful that there is a change room located inside this place.

I jog to the ladies changing room and slip off my partially sweaty garments. Replacing those is an azure dress with a cinched waist and a lacy black bow that shows off a little too much skin for my liking. I pair this with with nude ballet flats and just as they are put on, I run out of the wide-spread room and walk up to a trainer, my clothes in hand. "If I don't make it to the games, I'll pick these up later. If I do, give them to my mother," I demand, shoving the clothes into her hands.

Swiftly, I speed walk out of the training center and head to the square, combing out my dark, cropped hair along the way. The scorching hot sun is burning my face when I make it to District One's town square. There are four tabled with small, blank books laid ontop. A person sitting at one of those tables motions me to come over. "Name," the man grumbles, not bothering to look at me. "Ashanti," I say. "I need a last name," he snarls. "You don't need to know," I retort. He finally looks at me with a sour expression.

He takes a small metal object that resembles a toothpick, holds up my pointer finger, and digs it into my skin. I seethe as he jams my now bleeding finger onto a sheet of paper and calls for another to come up and go through the same procedure as myself. I walk up to a stray peacekeeper who directs me to the roped off section with other sixteen year old girls.

It's awfully crowded where I stand, but I consider this to be a good thing as it means the reapings will start soon and I would honestly like to get my volunteering out of the way. It takes another five minutes until our mayor hops onto the podium. After describing how Panem came to be, he says, "My deepest gratitude goes to the bravest here today that will be entering these beloved games." I know that this quote will be the background to a shot of the two reaped tributes later on. I also know that one of those tributes will be me.

An obvious Capitol citizen struts onto the stage, microphone in hand. "Welcome District One! It is my honour to serve as an escort to you," she says with a twinkle in her joyful lavender eyes. Her purple sequin covered skirt and skin tight tube top remind me of an upscale, Capitol-esque ballerina. "I, Petunia, would like to present this year's female tribute," she states, calmly walking over to a clear bowl with tons of slips inside.

I start to feel tense, my legs ready to run up to the stage if they must. Whatever it takes to volunteer. To show others that there was more then what meets the eye.

"Amarenth Woods!" People in my crowd of sixteen year olds make way for a tall, built girl with a smirk implanted on her face. My hands shake wildly when I recognize her face. No, her fists. Her threats. She could no longer have anything over me.

I cut infront of the girl, and leap up to the podium. "I volunteer!" I cry, and Petunia says blandly, as if saying to herself, "Does anyone wait for when I call for volunteers anymore?" She sighs, then glances to the crowd and replaces her sour expression with a beam. "And what is your name?" She asks, steadily handing me the microphone. "Ashanti," I reply, sneaking a glance at the audience. The first person I notice is my mom, Alexxia. And the half-smile covering her face.

"Well, we are all very happy for you." She assures me. "Aren't we?" She smiles, talking to those fellow viewers, hyping them up. "This has sure been exciting so far. Now onto the boys!" She merrily sing-songs.

I catch a glimpse at my face in the enormous television screens, emotionless and eyebrows raised. These games have nothing over me.

* * *

**District 11- Nightlock Crane**

* * *

I stand with all the other sixteen year olds guys, who anxiously wait to see who will be chosen. I guess it's fair to say that this year, one of them might be thanking me for their lives. For volunteering in their place.

I can feel the anxiety welling up inside the crowd of people when our old and quite husky escort mounts the stage, smoothing down his raindbow suit. "Why, hello!" He says in a silly, almost fake, accent and briefly expresses his joy for being here, being a part of District Eleven. If he considers my district his home, then I will say very honestly that he is not at all welcome. "As usual, I will begin with the ladies!" He reaches the bowl full of female names and potential tributes. He rubs his cheek before proudly yelling some girls name out.

I already know the kids reaction before I see it.

The very young girl is show on the now descending screens. Her face, at first, is complete shock. After, her youthful faces contorts into pure terror. She breaks out into humongous heaps of tears just as a few peacekeepers near her.

"I volunteer!" The screens switch to a girl who I can assume is my age because of her average height and her older features compared to the reaped girl. She races to the stage, and as she pants she repeats "I ... volunteer!" Though she is being bombarded with questions by the escort that I should be listening to because she will be my future district partener, my gaze wanders off and reaches the sight of my thirteen year old sisters. They are safe. They are and will be okay for another year.

Relief floods through me.

My attention is caught when the escort loudly exclaims, "Boys next!" I watch patiently as he takes a thin paper slip into his chubby hands. "Oak Barrington!" The guy's scream is cut off by my louder, steadier one.

"I volunteer as tribute! I volunteer to be District Eleven's tribute!"

I find myself up on the podium in a split-second. My escort, who I learn is named Pascal, smiles with absurd delight. "Marvelous!" He chirps, patting my back. "Now that is what I am talking about! Now, give it up for your new tributes of District Eleven!" There is no clapping. No thumbs-up. No sense of pride. Just bowing heads.

Well then. This will be fun.

* * *

**District Four Mentor- Moss Cleaton**

* * *

She marches up to the stage, standing only a few feet infront me. Radiant green eyes, polished auburn hair. He joins her. Black spiked hair, confident smirk. Abigail Darkwell and Scott Bramble Harlequin. Their figures cast a shadow over me as I sit firmly on a bench, joined by plenty of others. These two are bound to get many sponsers. More then I did.

My games were all luck. I only killed few people, leaving my alliance to hunt down everyone else. When the fighting started between us I ran off, no food, water or any essentials. But I was eventually the last one standing. Like I said, complete and total luck. I had no drive, no one to come home to.

They all died, suddenly. For theft, I was told, though my parents had plenty of money, therefore no reason to steal. What the peacekeepers told me was probably a long story short, but anyone could tell that it was more complex then what they were saying. So on the year that the 124th hunger games came around, it was me who was reaped, with no volunteers at was messed up, because in no way would anyone in my district pass up on a chance to volunteer. But saying 'the reaping bowl is rigged' seemed childish. So I played the games, with no will to return to District Four.

But seeing these two tells me that they _do _have a will. You can see the determination in their eyes, the desperity when volunteering. They were trying to come back home safely. I have no doubt in my mind that they have the capability to do just that.

Today, I face myself with a goal. To get either one of the two home, alive.

* * *

**An update! I know, complete shocker. So I feel the need to apologize- I am so terribly sorry that I have not updated a chapter when I said, so long ago, that I would. But I really have been trying to get into writing this. **

**Anyways, I would like to thank the submitters of these amazing tributes:**

-SeekerDraconis with _Sophia LaFrate_

-martyliz101 with _Ashanti Lukas_

-Kid Am with _Nightlock Crane_

**I love you guys for making up these exciting characters! :)**

**So, I want to go over a few things that I haven't gone over before. In each chapter, there will be four tribute perspectives and one other random (ie. Capitol Citizen, Escort, Mentor and so on). This does differ for things like the actual games and the interviews and what not. I will try to do more character-development in more chapters because I didn't really include much of it in this one. **

**Well, I have one more thing to say...**

**REVIEW! ;P**


	4. Author's Note, Sadly

Hey everyone.

It's an authors note, sadly.

First of all, don't get discouraged by the 'sadly'. I'm not abandoning the story, and I won't ever, it's just sad because you may or may not have been hoping for this to be an actual chapter. Because I never update. Sorry:(

I can assure you that I have been working on the next chapter. So far I have two POVS done, but they are so much longer then the ones in the other chapter. Which is good, atleast.

But I'm going to do my best to finish it within this week, one perspective at a time. See you next chapter?

-EmeraldElegance, who will be getting a new profile pic soon!


	5. Progress Update will be deleted soon

Small update, just to let you guys know whats up with my progress. (You don't have to reply, I'm going to delete this once I put the next chapter up.)

So I have the misc. point of view and three of the tributes point of views finished. So I have one left, which I will finish tommorow, though I think I'll post it on Wednesday because I want to make sure that I re-check my spelling so that everything is correct. *Almost posted chapter that is far overdue but will be up eventually happy dance* Whee!

Again, just wanted to tell you my progress. Thanks for your time! Bye, see you next chapter! (:


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